Edgar died on February 7. He was a friend and mentor to my friend Corie Walsh, who shared this remembrance:

Edgar was 96 years old and a Holocaust survivor. I met Edgar when I was in high school and he was a spectacular influence on my career and my personal life. He was one of those people who held such light and joy that you couldn’t help but smile when you met him.

A portrait of Edgar drawn by Leo Haas in Terezin, 1943. Photo Credit: The Terezin Music Foundation

Edgar was originally sent to Terezin, the show camp for the Red Cross, in 1941, where he survived as cook. He was on the very first transport there. Edgar lived in Terezin until 1944 when he was transported to Auschwitz. He then participated (and survived) the infamous Death March from Auschwitz by pretending to be dead. If you asked Edgar how he survived the Holocaust he wouldn’t say through perseverance, strength, or faith. Instead he would tell you that an onion saved his life.

At one point, when he was struggling and quite ill, he was out on work detail and he found a whole onion. He planned on stashing it in his uniform and sneaking it back to the barracks to feed two younger boys who he had been looking after. However at the end of his work detail, the guards called for a random search. Edgar knew he had to eat the onion before he was searched. So he ate the entire thing in a matter of minutes. Raw, like an apple. Then the next day, his illness and sores started to heal. Edgar credited that onion with saving his life and he continued to make onions a focal point through the rest of his cooking throughout his career.

This story tells three things about Edgar: his humor, his selflessness, and his strength. Edgar wasn’t spectacular because he was a Holocaust survivor. He was spectacular because he was kind and because he dedicated his life to making the world a little bit more like him.

After surviving the Holocaust and emigrating to the US, Edgar ran a restaurant in Brookline MA and spent his free time and retirement speaking at schools and colleges. The first time Edgar had me over to his house for dinner he made a huge spread for dinner including his signature baba ganoush and hummus. The meal concluded with Turkish coffee, which was not optional. According to Edgar, it would “put hair on your chest.” He would wink as he said this, recognizing that a hairy chest was not exactly a desirable quality for a woman.

As I grew older and busier, Edgar and I saw one another more infrequently. We would see each other annually at the gatherings for the Terezin Music Foundation, but I believe we remained friends. He spoke with the sincerity and conviction to make me believe that I was the only person in the room and perhaps the only person on the planet. He would grasp my hand and say “Corie my dear, how are you?” And he meant it. We would get on about my dating life, gossip, cooking, and our respective forays into activism.

Edgar was the unique sort of character that brushes into one’s life and has the capacity to change it. He taught me that there is no beauty in martyrdom, no humanity without equality, no life without humor, and no good cooking without onions. I will miss him dearly, but I will carry his spirit and his story forward. I hope you do the same.